


a beast so wild

by yesterday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10113545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesterday/pseuds/yesterday
Summary: Peter didn’t leave the apartment immediately after his final text. Chris wouldn’t be able to tear himself away from work so soon anyway. So he took some time to make sure signs of his presence were obvious. The sheets he left on the bed in a mess as promised, along with the stained shirt. For good measure, he abandoned his belt on the bedroom floor too.A low simmer of anticipation ran through him, the thrill of the hunt and chase- because it wouldn’t be a one-sided ordeal, of course- stirring his interest. He had no intention of making this easy for Chris.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is the porny continuation of a scenario! and really i just wanted to write about peter and chris chasing each other in the preserve ending in fucking.

It started with a text. 

Well actually, it started with Peter dropping by Chris’s apartment in the middle of the day only to find it empty, and rather than waste a trip here, sticking around for a little while out of boredom. He’s been here before. When this entire thing started, the agreement had been to only meet here. It lent a false sense of security to Chris he supposed, to play on his territory. The line had blurred long since then, the key to his place having migrated onto Chris’s keychain at some point. 

But they still met here more often than not, and any werewolf visiting would notice Peter’s scent mingled with Chris’s throughout the place. 

Their scent was strongest in the bedroom, which is where he ended up. What happened next wasn’t planned by any means. One thing just led to another— which is to say he was idly inspecting one of Chris’s shirts when his cock twitched with interest, and then next thing he knew, his jeans were undone and he was coming all over the shirt. 

A complete accident, that’s all. It happened. But he really _should_ let Chris know about it out of courtesy. Which he did by text, teasing out Chris’s interest until he arrived at the correct conclusion.

` Will you be there when I’m done with this?`

Looks like he caught it. Peter deliberated his response, and decided against it. How frustrated would Chris be if he weren’t, if all this back and forth led to nothing? So he told him no. 

`If you weren't waiting at my place I'd just go to yours and find you.`

`You could try and chase me down. Wouldn't that be interesting?`

`You shouldn't tempt a hunter with a hunt, Peter.`

`Or will the hunter become the hunted?`

`I'd hunt you down and claim my prize.`

`You can try. Winner takes all?`

`I’ll see you soon, Peter.`

`Maybe not that soon.`

Peter didn’t leave the apartment immediately after his final text. Chris wouldn’t be able to tear himself away from work so soon anyway. So he took some time to make sure signs of his presence were obvious. The sheets he left on the bed in a mess as promised, along with the stained shirt. For good measure, he abandoned his belt on the bedroom floor too. 

A low simmer of anticipation ran through him, the thrill of the hunt and chase— because it wouldn’t be a one-sided ordeal, of course— stirring his interest. He had no intention of making this easy for Chris. 

The first and most obvious places to check were both apartments, no matter how obvious it was that they were the last places he would be in. Chris would do it anyway like the methodical, good little soldier he was. Just in case. 

And besides, he had technology on his side. Fifteen minutes later in line for a coffee, GPS tracking showed Chris’s location first at his own apartment, before heading en route to Peter’s as he finished his coffee and the crossword on the café patio. After a moment’s debate, he sent him a picture of his table, the late afternoon sun streaming across it. A message came in a moment later. 

`It’s almost like you want to be caught.`

`I thought you could use a hint. Did you like my present?`

`I’d rather have my prize. Don’t go anywhere, Peter.`

He scoffed at the text, depositing his coffee cup in the trash. The paper he left behind, _you’ll have to do better than that_ scrawled under the completed crossword in his hand. Where to go from here? For dinner, maybe. Problem was, Chris knew about most of his favoured haunts through a combination of vigorous vigilance and having actually gone with him to a couple of them. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he headed home. It was quiet, the only sign of Chris’s visit his scent lingering in the air, and _oh_. Someone’s been naughty in his kitchen. Peter left that mess where it was, and made himself a quick sandwich, savouring it slowly in his living room. He kept an eye on his phone. Chris was on his way back here. Interesting. 

No time to waste.

Peter drove towards the preserve, parking at the edge of it. He had maybe a five minute head start on Chris. It was enough. Leaving his phone in the car, he slipped into the woods. 

Dusk was converging, shadows stretching from the trees. The weather was warm, summer promising to follow on the heels the late spring, the grass green and tender. No crunch of dead leaves underfoot to give him away. It would be difficult for Chris to track him here, but not so difficult for Peter to hear him. Still, he’s cautious. Chris was a hunter, after all. 

But like he had asked him: would the hunter become the hunted tonight? 

Pausing under a leafy oak, he tipped his head back, a howl winding its way out of his throat. An unmistakable taunt for Chris, because Peter never could help himself. 

It became a game of cat and mouse in the woods, both of them nipping at each other’s heels, Peter pulling into the lead ever so often and then Chris turning the tables on him. At one point, they came face to face on opposite sides of the stream, Peter waving jauntily before loping away. Water splashed behind him, and he accelerated until Chris was left behind. 

Ten minutes later, he clambered up a tree, taking shelter in the crook of a low-hanging branch. Only the wind carrying Chris’s scent downwind gave him away. Otherwise, he was silent on his feet. Impressively so. But any moment now, Peter knew he would pass by the clearing below, and when he did—

He jumped. 

Chris glanced up sharply a split second before, twisting out of the way but going down anyway when Peter tackled him. They wrestled, Peter settling heavy on Chris’s hips and keeping him pinned beneath him with his hands on his shoulders. He ground down greedily, growling as Chris yanked him down by the collar, the biting kiss he delivered splitting his lip open. Chris ran his tongue along his lip, catching the droplets. Peter sighed against his mouth, and let himself be flipped onto his back. 

“Caught you,” Chris said, all gravel and deep satisfaction. He slid his hands under Peter’s shirt, raking his nails along his stomach. Arching up into it, Peter’s mouth curled up into a languid grin. 

“Have you?” he said, Chris’s hands biting into his skin for a split second before Peter made his escape. 

“ _Peter_ ,” Chris snarled from behind him, more like a wolf than man. 

They ran. 

Blood singing in his veins, he laughed because it would rile Chris Argent up, and because they both knew that even if Peter was the one being chased, he was leading. Deliberately keeping just out of Chris’s reach without completely outstripping him. Their breaths were heavy in the air, and somewhere at the back of his mind, he was impressed with Chris for having kept up as long as he had. But he already knew— had seen the evidence for himself— Chris’s body was a display of self-discipline, maintained at peak for hunting against the supernatural. 

At a slope, Peter stumbled over a root. Chris pounced, and Peter’s breath was forced from his lungs, back meeting bark painfully. He’s hard, but so was Chris, rutting insistently against his thigh. Their eyes met, and he saw that Chris’s were so dark they were almost black. 

He grabbed him by the hips, palming the front of his jeans. His voice was breathless, laughing. “I had fun, didn’t you?” 

“No more games,” Chris warned, asserting the length of his body against Peter’s weighing him down against the tree. “We had a deal.” 

“And a deal is a deal, even with me,” Peter murmured. “What now, Chris? Going to claim your prize right here?” 

Chris raised his eyebrows at him, a twitch of his mouth the faintest suggestion of a smirk. “Finders keepers.” 

Then he was on him again, kissing like he meant to consume. Peter ran his hand up the curve of Chris’s spine, up and up and up to fist his hand in the short strands of his hair, tugging Chris’s head back and exposing his neck. The steady beat of his pulse under his skin was vibrant, loud. He nosed at the hollow of his throat, biting at a tendon there and laving over it with his tongue afterwards, sucking on it with every intention of creating a bruise. Chris swore, the sound loud in the quiet of the woods. 

They groped at each other, fumbling with buttons and zippers until their jeans were shoved around their hips, Peter curling his hand around Chris’s cock just a little too tightly. It had to be on the wrong side of dry, painful until he swiped his thumb over the head of his dick, rubbing his precome all over him. But still Chris bucked in his grasp, a groan falling heavy between them. 

“Enough,” Chris finally said, planting his palm on Peter’s chest, shoving him back and grabbing him by the shoulders. He pinned him face first against the tree.

Rolling his eyes, he twisted his head around to look at him. “Are you sure? You seem to be enjoying yourself—” 

“I’m going to fuck you like I promised.”

A full body shudder rolled over him as Chris’s bruising grip transferred to his ass, kneading at him as he slid his cock against him in a brief promise. He paused, and Peter watched him with dark eyes as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a packet of lube. A thin thread of amusement wound its way through him, mixing with anticipation. 

Chris tore the packet open and slicked his fingers up. Peter couldn’t resist making a comment. “Always so prepared. Someone was sure they’d catch me.” 

“Don’t lie, Peter.” Chris plastered himself against his back again, nipping at Peter’s ear. He ran two fingers over his hole before pushing them in, Peter hissing at the burn. “You wanted me to catch you.” 

He didn’t bother to deny it when it was true, eagerly catching Chris’s mouth in another kiss, sucking on his lower lip. Chris was impatient in his prep, opening him up roughly. His dick slid between Peter’s thighs, slicking the insides of them like a promise of what was to come. It was good— better than good, Peter never having minded a bit of pain mixed in with pleasure. Twisting in his grasp, he moved in time with Chris, fucking himself on his fingers until he caught himself. “Enough. That’s enough.” 

“It isn’t—”

“ _Fuck me_ , Chris, or I’m leaving.” 

The pause dragged on long enough for him to think he’d have to make good on his word, but then Chris was lining himself up and fucking into him, the blunt press of his cock in him unbearably good. Peter writhed, scratching up the bark in front of him, panting. 

Chris didn’t stop until he was completely in him, hanging heavy over him and kissing the crook of his neck with a groan in what Peter’s sure was meant to be a soothing gesture. “You feel so good.”

He didn’t reply, grinding on Chris’s dick instead until he was breathless. Chris slipped his hand from his hip to his cock, jerking him off in time to the pace of his thrusts. There’s nothing graceful about it, but it’s perfect. It’s exactly what he wanted. 

“Do you enjoy this, Chris? Having me under you?” he said, one arm braced on the trunk. “Being in me?” 

“God, you don’t ever shut up, do you?” Chris said, the accusation fond to Peter’s ears. “Yeah, I like it. Love the way you take it.” 

“I don’t let you do this often enough, do I? I can’t help myself, you understand. Not when you always look like you hate yourself for enjoying it when I finally pin you down and fuck you.” 

“You cheat.” 

“Not my fault you aren’t a werewolf.” 

“Peter,” Chris said.

“What?” he answered, holding back a shiver as Chris changed angles, the next thrust in hammering him square on the prostate. 

“Shut up.” 

That was the last Chris said before he was fucking him relentlessly, abandoning his cock to get a better hold on Peter by the hips, grip bruising. Peter moaned, loud and shameless, meeting him thrust for thrust. He tried to spread his legs wider, but his jeans were caught around his thighs. There was a cold bite at his leg every so often, a reminder that Chris was in no better state, his buckle pushed aside in neglect and hitting him. But it was perfect. 

His dick was painfully hard against his stomach, and he wrapped an unsteady hand around himself. It jumped in his grasp as he stroked, pearls of precome sliding down over him. 

At his back, Chris was pressing hungry kisses to the vulnerable curve of his spine, scraping his teeth along the skin. “ _God_ — fuck.”

“You're fucking me, not him,” Peter said.

He could practically feel Chris's grin against him before he slid his hand around to join Peter's, calluses rough on his cock. The heat was coiling rapidly in his stomach, every inch of him tensing. 

“You're close, aren't you?” Chris ground out by his ear. “I can tell. You always tighten up all over right before you come, like you're getting ready to run.” His hands on Peter grew tighter, fucking harder and faster into him. “But I've got you. You're not going anywhere, not before you come on my cock.”

“Chris,” he bit out, fang catching on his lip. Blood filled his mouth, sharp and coppery. 

Slamming into him, Chris growled, “Come on, Peter. Let go.” 

That's his undoing, the snarl rumbling from within him as he spilled all over his hand, Chris's hand, clenched tight around his dick. Chris fucked him through it, buried deep in him when he came. 

Leaning heavily against the tree, he struggled to catch his breath. The cold air was a relief on his overheated body, clothes clinging to him. Chris was a limpet behind him with his arms wrapped around him, keeping him close. He was always particularly tactile around Peter after orgasm, like his brain short circuited and his defenses went down. Did he know that he did that? Peter would guess no. 

Eventually discomfort won out, Peter making his displeasure known with a half-hearted kick to Chris’s shin. They rearranged themselves, and made the slow trek back out of the preserve. Chris’s SUV was parked haphazardly in the gravel lot next to Peter’s coupe, and after a moment of hesitation, Peter ignored his own car, sliding into Chris’s passenger seat. 

“You owe me a ride home,” he said by way of explanation. 

Raising an eyebrow at him, Chris said slowly, “Okay.” 

When they pulled into Chris’s building’s lot, he could feel Chris watching him carefully. He didn’t say anything. The silence between them was heavy with anticipation until Peter opened the door, looking over his shoulder at Chris. “I’m using the shower first.” 

He pretended he didn’t see the small, secret smile Chris was wearing all the way up to the apartment.


End file.
